


Dolce Italia e un Dolce Signore Cumberbatch...

by Punk_in_Docs



Series: Along Came Benedict: The Ben and Libby Saga... [12]
Category: Benedict Cumberbatch - Fandom, British Actor RPF
Genre: A Sleeper Train Like On That Chanel Advert With Audrey Tatou, D&G, F/M, First Class, Five Star Hotels, Italy, Luxury Travelling, Modelling, Travel, Travelling in style, Venice, Venice Film Festival, photoshoot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:49:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2204298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_in_Docs/pseuds/Punk_in_Docs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Ok, L.A, where would we go?” </p><p>Libby asked, daring to dream with him for just a second. Although, truth be told, she was yearning to escape things too, work had been relentless lately, one solid important deadline after the other.</p><p>“Hole up in a castle in scotland for a few weeks? Read books by a log fire, have crazy great morning sex, and dare not to get out of bed for a day or two…” Ben spoke, winking slyly at her.</p><p>“This has every dangerous possibility of turning into a sex holiday doesn’t it?” </p><p>His filthy smile and gleaming eyes told her everything she needed to know as his answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Formalities, Dates and Schedules...

 

“Am I hereafter doomed to lead a gluttonous and stout- figured existence with you in my life, dearest?” Benedict groaned, sweetly smiling as his arms slid up Libby’s bare arms.

She chuckled, swiping a tentative hand through his thick curls near his forehead. They had just finished dinner, a lazy affair of Libby’s sumptuous cooking, which, should have been prepared a lot easier were she not distracted by Benedict’s wandering hands, and the wine he kept plying her with as she cooked, not to mention the kisses that robbed her of breath so artistically, she had to remind herself how standing up worked when he pulled away. A lustful and set-on-intent Benedict was a danger to any workplace. This was their regular Friday night. Date Night. They had agreed to rota the cooking (Which forever meant Ben, being himself, would forget, and just order takeout instead) But when it came Libby’s turn to step up to the plate, he would be assured of having her effortlessly whip up a delicious michelin style dinner for them both with such relative ease it startled him. They did the usual thing they always did, left the washing up piled high for the ‘loser’ to put in the dishwasher, lazily lolloped to the lounge with bellies full of the mouth-watering grub Libby had made, this evening it was sea breame with roast potatoes and chilli covered broccolli, which they had wolfed down quickly, with her choice of the best of ‘Julie London’ wailing in the background, just treasuring each others company after a long working week and a busy weekend – Tessa and Mark were now safely settled at home with Baby Rupert – with Libby being in Ireland from Monday to Wednesday soliciting after an animation company based in Dublin that were interested in turning her book into a cartoon miniseries, with exciting talk of a film lingering on the horizon, and with Benedict in London, doing back to back press conferences and photoshoots, they both didn’t see much of each other during the week, despite the fact that come three weeks, after Benedict’s apartment was under lease again, they would be living permanently in the same house. This, of course, led to them giving each other hilarious new nicknames of ‘Permanent room mate No.1 and No.2’ which delighted them both to no end. So now, the lights were off, a couple of candles were lit, and they were comfortably slumped on Libby’s living room floor atop the cushiony carpet, Libby had her back supported against the sofa, with Ben’s head rested in her lap. Hands smoothing up and down her warm bare upper arms. That was also another thing they both loved about date night, the dress code was formal. So this left Ben in his, which was coincidentally, _her_ favourite too, dark scarlet Alexander Mcqueen dress shirt with his Spencer Hart tailored trousers, and of course, pink and yellow striped socks. But, he got his own back on her, as she was wearing a short, tight bodycon dress that did her figure a many number of favours, it was her black halterneck body con dress that he simply adored on her, she looked like walking sex on legs when she wore it, to him, and subsequently had been driving him mad all evening. With her hair all tousled and curly, messy and sexy aswell as the jaw dropping dress, he had been semi turned on from the moment he saw her.

He breathed in deep and exhaled. This, this was bliss. Just lying here with her, partially in her arms, belly full of food, he felt content and rested, and as the slow sway of music eased him further into relaxation.

“Well, It’s a very likely possibilty, dereast heart…”

Libby answered. Making Ben purr with a moan as she eased her hands under his neck and massaged his tapered neck and shoulders with her soft skillfull hands.

“Ok, call Hollywood, tell them I resign….”

He moaned greedily, melting into her touch as she dug her fingers deep into his neck, kneading the taut muscles that needed rest. He moaned louder at that, a groaning sound of bone deep satisfaction at her soothing his overworked body.

“I think we’ve both been worked like dogs this week…”

Libby answered, her tone unbearably worn thin after her long week too, Ben had noticed that the bags under her eyes were darker and more pronounced than usual. And twice this week she had to go to bed at half nine, unable to stay awake for much longer. Thursday night he recalled sweeping her up into a firemans carry and tucking her into bed, she had laughed and placed a tired kiss on his nose, but as soon as both their bodies hit the bed, they fell straight into a soundless sleep, so it wasn’t just Ben suffering from his long work week. It was wearing Libby thin too…

Ben nodded, eyes still shut as she massaged his shoulders.

“You know what I think we need?”

Ben said, opening his eyes and clasping her wrists in his large grip, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them.

Libby smiled, murmering a small, “Mmm?” in question, transfixed by his ever changeable eyes and their enchanting colour that drew her in deep like a whirlpool of kaleidoscopic hued hypnosis. In the candle light, they danced in the flickering light with shifting shades, from glittering golden to gentle green, and swirling into light stormy blue, like aquamarine pools of beauty that she wanted to dive into and bathe in.

“A holiday.”

He answered, smiling at her upside down face in his vision, scented red hair tousled around her face in a halo of red curls that were heavenly soft to touch.

“A Holiday?” She asked. With a tone of slight disbelief.

He shifted up and onto his front, gathering her into his arms, splitting his beanpole legs either side of her crouching figure so he could take her hands and admire the breathtaking scope of her in the changing flutter of dim candlelight.

“You sound sceptical…”

He answered with gentle humour and narrowed eyes. Rolling her hands in his as she crouched in front of him.

“Your forgetting, Mr L.A, that your schedule is much more active than mine…” She warned with a smile.

“I don’t care for that nickname…” He growled with a wink.

“Well, the name can go, but my point still stands…” she added.

“I can rearrange things…” He assured.

“Your agent will slaughter me in cold blood for being the reason you rearrange things, yet again..”

She spoke, referring to the press session he put back to attend Baby Rupert’s christening next month. Ben had booked the time off in advance for her, at no push of her own. It was entirely his call.

“My schedule can be forgotten about for a while. I’m human. I want a break, I need a break, and Mr L.A would quite like to whisk Permanent Roommate No.1 away somewhere for a few weeks to recuperate from all this damned silly hard work we’ve been doing…” He pointed out with a smile.

“Ok, L.A, where would we go?”

Libby asked, daring to dream with him for just a second. Although, truth be told, she was yearning to escape things too, work had been relentless lately, one solid important deadline after the other. Plus the fact she had also agreed to let herself be roped in for a few shifts at the bakery, and the florists where she invested, and not that she didn’t love or adore helping out, but when she was dead on her feet, it didn’t appeal as much as it did usually.

“Hole up in a castle in scotland for a few weeks? Read books by a log fire, have crazy great morning sex, and dare not to get out of bed for a day or two…” Ben spoke, winking slyly at her.

“This has every dangerous possibility of turning into a sex holiday doesn’t it?”

Libby asked dryly as Ben’s hands reached around to cup her voluptious bottom. Tugging her ever closer to his lap. His lusty eyes and filthy smile were her answer.

She sighed, linking her arms about his neck.

“Cornwall?” She suggested. “Same principle as Scotland, hole up in a little beach house, take walks along the sea front, eat pasties, read books…” She suggested.

“Pasties and surfing… Come on my treat, I’m sure we could do better than that?” Ben winked.

“So, you want a Holiday abroad then?” Libby asked.

“A hot one…” Ben dreamed aloud. As if he were already imagining lying on a beach and sunning himself.

“Ok…. South of France?” she suggested

He wrinkled his nose in distain.

“Full of French.”

Libby laughed.

“In France, imagine that…”

She smiled prettily, teasing him as he swatted her ass as punishment.

“Spain?”

He groaned, again, in disparagement.

“I’m running out of hot countries in Europe here, Ben…” Libby warned.

“Italy…” She stumbled upon, finally.

Ben smiled.

“Hmmmmmm….” He pondered. “Sitting in a gondola, rowing through Venice at sunset, eating Italian food, and wine in a ridiculously expensive hotel…. Now, that, sounds good to me….” Ben smiled.

“Italy then..” Libby finalised. “I’ve never been to Venice before…” She added, sounding excited, wondering when she, and he, would be able to secure the time off to go. A few weeks maybe…

“You know, I dreamed of going to Venice, wandering around, speaking the language, tasting the local food, Rome was amazing, but it wasn’t Venice…” she admitted.

At this point, Ben shot a truly wide, and truly handsome smile at her.

Libby frowned uneasily as to the origin of his ridiculously good looking smile.

“What?” she smiled.

“Nothing. I’m just glad you think Italy too…” He offered.

“Why so shocked?” she asked. “Some things, we will never settle on, like for instance, who is better, Led Zeppelin, or AC/DC….”

“AC/DC…” Ben added quickly.

“Learn to change your mind to Led and I’ll agree with you…” She growled sternly.

“We did argue about this for five years…” Ben reminded her, ( _like_ she could forget)

“Lets move on before it gets ugly and unruly again….” Libby ushered.

“Wise.” Ben congratulated.

“ _But_ ….” Libby pressed, steering the conversation back down the straight and narrow again.

“… We can be safe in the decision that we agree on Italy as a destination…”

“Well, that’s good then…” Ben sighed, relaxing.

“I didn’t know the agreement was so vitally important to you…” she smiled. The look in her eyes and her tone told him she was teasing him for sure.

“Well, it just means that I didn’t waste my time booking a hotel and first class flight tickets there for Monday then…” he added in ease.

Libby blinked, the teasing look wiped right off her face.

“Come again?” She stuttered after a minute.

“We’re going to Venice…”

Ben added again. Pulling out an envelope with plane tickets inside from his back pocket, as if he was simply passing her the salt at the dinner table.

“On Monday?” Libby asked.

“Your brain is remarkably slow paced this evening…” He teased.

Libby blinked and nudged him lightly in the ribs.

“Just clarifying. Italy. Me and You, Venice? On Monday?” Libby gaped, in obvious joyful shock

“Start packing now, baby..” Ben winked.

That was before he found himself flung into a hug with kisses peppered across his face. And, he could be confident from that point on, that she was looking forward to the trip just as much as he…

But what made him love her all the more, was even after they retired to bed that night, after a toe curling, mind blowingly great shag as her way of thanking him, she still managed to whisper a sentence in his ear before they dropped off to sleep.

“Thanks for Italy and everything Fiend. But you really are going to have to change your mind about Led….”

She whispered softly.

He went to sleep smiling…

 


	2. Room Service, Suites and Shagging...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Ben style naughtiness.... as always...
> 
> x

 

 

 

Groggily, and with the previous day of travelling weighing down heavily on her mind, she was amazed to blink herself awake with such a dreamy restless feeling that made her feel as if she was the most contented soul alive.

She began to understand that when Benedict said he was going to treat her, he meant that statement in every sense of the word. They had flied uber super first class from Heathrow to Venice, in a private air cabin with a cozy bed no less, which, had been strewn with rose petals, and the air stewardesses kept them plied with cold crisp champagne as if it were running water. In short, Libby and Benedict had a rather tipsy and fumbled flight over, and didn’t succeed in getting very much rest, which only hit them all too hard as they arrived in Italy. They stumbled off the plane, with the tipsiness gone and the tiredness settling in, but not enough so that both of them didn’t feel elated and excited as the posh sleek mercedes glided like a ruthlessly seamless ice skater through the dusky sunset streets of Italy to their hotel, of which, when they arrived, and Benedict confirmed their reservations (In his rusty italian) for the San Giorgio Terrace Suite, the most expensive in the hotel, Libby's jaw had dropped. Blinking incredulously at her scandalous looking lover who was shooting her his most knicker melting glare from lobby to their suites door, whereby entering and scooping her up into his arms in an effortless sweep through the most extravagantly and ridiculously overpriced hotel suite Libby had ever had the good fortune to grace, for all the world, they looked like they were a couple on their honeymoon, and not just two souls who loved each other more than life itself.

Again, there was a bed laden with flowers, and a chilled bottle of truly great Italian prosecco awaiting them when they collapsed onto the super king bed that was as soft as butter to sink into, but it was the view that made them both gasp. Through a dusty red sunset that glowed and shimmered across Venice, turning the water to rusty red waves and the buildings of white marble into burnt sienna statues along the skyline which was being swallowed up by the sun and the blazing sky, the mildly substantial heat that swept across the city on the hot breeze in the late evening that Libby felt brush teasingly along her arms as she emerged from the comfy cocoon of air conned luxury from the Mercedes to the hotel lobby, told her that they had missed a truly stunning day in Venice beforehand. But that tomorrow seductively winked at her the promise of being just as glorious. Despite Benedict’s underwear vaporizing look that was Libby’s kryptonite, they undressed and fumbled themselves into their sleepwear. Tipsily so with the aid of the cooling posecco, collapsing into the heavenly scented, and velvety mattress to ease gently into the best nights sleep the two of them had ever to have. A tangle of limbs exhausted by jet lag and mild inebriation.

Libby was the first to wake up, eyes blinking blearily open to come to terms once again with the instantaneous luxury of their hotel suite that cost an arm and a leg, but to which she was paying no heed to cost. As soon as her eyes slid open, and she saw the view greeting her, a smile slid eagerly onto her lips. And, oddly enough, even though the view was enough to render her speechless, that wasn’t what she smiled at. The sight of a sleeping Ben, however, was.

She could see him like this a thousand times, and then a thousand times again if she must. It as nearly impossible how much he looked like a mere kid when he slept, eyes pulled to rest with his bambi length eyelashes brimming them, ruffled dark hair gently resting on his forehead, the colour of which was shifting from dark brown, to a rusty red, like the Italian sunset they glimpsed at the night before, this was highlighted by the whisps of light seeped through the expensive curtains and that caught his face and made his complexion ethereal and beautiful. And there was just no other manly way to phrase it for him, because, like this he was, utterly, wholeheartedly _beautiful_.

Libby knew he had drunkenly tugged on pyjama bottoms before they collapsed into their slumber the night before, but he had forgone a shirt, so now his bare muscled arm gripped the covers above his trim middle as he lay on his back with his face turned to her, lips set in a plump but smooth line, one she was itching to kiss and feel that cupids bow that drove her to madness pucker back up against her own. Her eyes flitted back over his arm again, the pale skin like a blank canvas that was dotted and speckled with freckles and the underlying promise of great strength and comfort. She smiled giddily to herself, before stretching and gently easing herself away from the warmed silken sheets, placing her feet down on the springy snow white carpet that bounced under her step like cotton buds, she ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair, feeling that a shower was very much in order, and as the bathtub in this suite was bigger than her kitchen and that the Hotel toiletries were Dior, that she very much needed a good long soak in the tub later on. She padded silently across to the bathroom, crossing the tiled floor to the sink, brushing her teeth to rid herself of her atrocious morning breath, she then couldn’t resist, walking back through the bedroom, she slipped silently out of the unlocked hotel door and onto their own private terrace.

The wind was what hit her first, a soft gust of warming morning air, that ruffled her hair like an embarrassing parent, and the heat of it kissing her skin with soft smacks, making her feel as if she were still wrapped up in the warm sheets of her bed with Benedict’s body warmth beside her. She smiled, happily admiring the stunning view of venice by sunlight, which skimmed over every building, skipping across the water to her, light splashing over each crest and wave in the water, blinking up at her, the terrace had low concrete pillar barriers topped with flowerbeds of sickly smelling red flowers that mingled accordingly on the breeze with the soft scent of the water and the hot air. She closed her eyes, smiled, and took a deep breath to take it all in. Heaven, in other words. She was in heaven.

But she was in heaven even more so when two adoring warm palms linked around her body, smoothing over her curved hips and folding around her trim waist, a nose nuzzling into her peachy scented hair, a content moan to her ear warming her blood. It was a dangerously sexy moan that turned into a longing one as her back was pulled into a naked muscular chest, and a yet unawake Benedict with sleepy eyes ruffled his face into her hair to stave off the harshness of the morning Italian sun that was being harsh to his eyes. But really, how could he resist her like this? In that stupidly sexy black vest top, and those silky black night shorts trimmed with lace that strained over her superb bottom, and the vest that stuck to her skin so her curves flared and excited him to no end. Libby purred with content, leaning her head back as his lips fired lust through her veins as he kissed her neck in a hotspot of hers that he knew only too well.

“Good Morning…”

Ben grumbled finally, voice all pure sex. (but when was it ever not?)

“It certainly is…”

Libby answered back, smiling at the gorgeous view that she wouldn’t want to share with anyone else but him.

“So, is Scotland or Cornwall seeming like such a good idea now?” He asked cheekily.

“Ohhh _hhhh_ , now. I refuse to answer that.” Libby beamed.

Bens hand skimmed over her ass, palm caressing her skin with lust.

“What should we do today? Because I’m all in favour for just staying here all day, shaking off the jet lag, perhaps sharing a bubble bath with you in that reservoir of a tub we have in that bathroom…”

Libby paused, smiling as her hands went atop his on her stomach.

“How did you know I wanted a bath?” Libby asked.

Ben shrugged a brow.

“Please, I saw you eyeing up those Dior bottles the second you saw them…”

Libby cursed how much this man knew about her. That was her air of mystery ruined.

“You really are set on spoiling me this holiday arent you?”

Libby asked, turning to slide her hands around him face to face, chest to chest. So she could kiss the tip of his nose and watch his eyes wriggle shut as he smiled when she did that. Those aquamarine eyes as warm and as glittering as the salty venice depths they were stood overlooking on the terrace. But much more of an enchanting view for her.

“Yes. But, when we get home again, it is back to beans on toast and weekends away to the inlaws, that or, bognor.” Ben joked.

Libby chuckled at the back of her throat.

“ _Tu sei_ _s_ _pregevole,_ Mr Cumberbatch...” Libby chided.

Ben growled lovingly and his hips bucked forwards to hers as he pressed her close to his muscular stretch of a frame.

“You know what your bilingual tongue is capable of doing to me, you saucy sexy, sexpot…” He purred.

Libby tilted her head.

“Well, gird your loins, the only thing you can do in Italian is hotel bookings and coffee ordering, I think if we are to get anywhere on this holiday, I shall have to speak Italian, and if I do, then you will have to attempt to control yourself…” She smiled.

“Come on, I think I can hear room service and baths beckoning…”

Ben winked, leading her indoors again to a long day of lazy sex and hotel robes. And she wasn’t exactly complaining…

“Your trying to coax sex out of me, you ottery Fiend…” She smiled.

“Oh yeah?” He asked incredulously

“Yeah…” She narrowed her eyes at him with a smile.

“Say it in Italian…” He dared, eyes dark.

She chewed her lip… thinking about the correct verbs for the translation

“Il t-tuo tentativodi convincere....”

She began. But it was too late. By the time Libby had the sentence complete in her head, Benedict had growled with lust, tugged her into his arms, heaved her across the shoulder, slapped her across the ass, and carried her off inside as per his promise for room service and shagging.

The incomplete words were laughed across the terrace as she was carried away and silenced in a wonderful way by her wonderful man... the struggled Italian verbs carried away onto the morning Venice air...

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Tu sei spregevole - You are despicable)


	3. Secret Arrangements, Red Carpets and Westwood...

 

 

Libby was trapped.

Trapped in a huge silky bed with silken sheets and atop a mattress that was softer than butter, smelling faintly like all of the Dior bath products that lined the bathroom shelf in the humungous black marble en suite. Utterly stuck, staring up at the expensive crown moulded ceiling, and able to hear the busy rush of Venice sweeping them by on the salty Adriatic sea. But as she was held there under the tall – naked – stretch of one of Britain's most elegantly infamous actors, whom already, since he had tugged her inside from the terrace with him many hours ago, had shagged her over four times, (twice in the bath, and twice on the bed) they had nearly drank an entire bottle of the hotel’s most eye wateringly expensive champagne, and eaten and gorged themselves on succulent, melt in the mouth roast beef and fine italian cold meats and deli luxuries, cold delicious parma ham, oily plump olives and zuccini, all the while dressed in their fluffy hotel robes out on the terrace in the dusty shimmer of late afternoon. But if this, if a naked Benedict pinning her to the bed and kissing sweetly down her neck and who was refusing to let her go, was being trapped. Then lord help her, she _never_ wanted to be set free.

She groaned and folded her arms around Ben’s neck, feeling his hair brush the pillow next to her forehead, and the soft shiver and bristle of his stubble tickling her skin, as he mapped his mouth over her shoulder, feeling her curvy body thrash under the bracket of his arms.

“Benedict….” She began.

“Mnnm?...”

He asked nuzzling his nose and his devilish smile up back into her neck, gusting out a hot breath into the nape of her neck that made her body wrack.

“We are, going to get out of bed today and see this incredible city are we not?”

She smiled, eyes closed and head thrown back on the pillow, a tangled mass of ruby red hair, mussed from sex, and hastily dried into silky curls from their opulent shared bath.

“Yes. Of course..” Ben exclaimed idly, with assurance.

Libby could feel his hand sliding a heated path down from her tiny waist to her wide naked hip.

“…After you stop being so sexy and damned enticing with those curves…”

He growled, edging the sheet down, exposing her to the muggy heat of the bedroom. Almost instantly she felt her nipples stiffen and lustful nerves shiver down her thighs.

Ben’s eyes wandered down to take in the sight of her stiffening rosy peaks, and her fidgeting legs.

“Turning you on? Am I. _Dear_?” He wondered with an innocent smile, and a smug one at that.

“Trapping me here. _Darling_.” She corrected him.

His hands ran teasingly over her hips. As he smiled much too conceitedly for her liking.

“I’ll let you free. Tonight, perhaps….” He grinned, eyes sparkling with mirth and dominance.

Libby looked – not so – helplessly, to her side out of the huge floor to ceiling windows opposite their bed, drawn with heavy expensive beige and gold curtains and soft shimmery sheer white curtains that partially shielded them from view. From here she had a decent look at the late dusk of oncoming evening.

“And its not even dark yet, night could be hours away…”

She whined – not wholeheartedly – with a smile. grabbing a spare pillow and whacking him on the back with it.

“Get off me you predatory brute!…” She laughed.

and so it was, he reluctantly rolled off her, tickling her and smirking, but not before he sunk his pearly whites into her dior scented shoulder.

She yelped and wriggled away from him across the huge bed.

Bens eyes warmed as he smiled down at her, head rested on his elbow as he placed one hand on her hip and tugged her close, cupping his hand around her jutting and sharp hipbone underneath her velveteen pale skin.

“Why tonight as a deadline, Batch?”

Libby asked, as he twirled a soft lock of red around his finger, looking at her with supreme adoration and lust in his eyes.

“Because…” He leaned close and started turning up her wrist towards him, placing a kiss to it.

“We.” There was a pause, and then another kiss, lurking further up her arm.

“Are.” _Kiss_. “Going” _Kiss_. “To.” _Kiss._ “A” _Kiss._ “Red.” _Kiss_. “Carpet.” _Kiss_. “Press Party.” _Kiss._

By the time his lips and words had finished, he was back at her shoulder again, nuzzling into her neck with a snuffly moan that she found alluring and sexy.

Libby’s entire body dropped into the mattress below her.

“We?”

“Sì, signorina..” Benedict grinned sexily. He also shot her a cheeky wink.

“Ben, My Darling, I don’t have a dress worthy enough for a Red Carpet…” Libby worried

“Luckily, I do…” Ben said in a sultry manner.

“You cross dressing, _again,_ Miss Van Uppity?” Libby joked wittily.

Ben tapped her ass with the palm of his wide soft hand.

“I chose it. Last week…” Ben clarified sweetly with confidence.

Libby narrowed her eyes with a smile.

“So, when you said you were going to meet Tom for lunch at Selfridges, you were in fact…?” She asked.

“Traipsing round Vivienne Westwood in Westfield with your dress size in mind, trying to think what you would choose, and monopolising half the staff to help me with the gargantuan task…” he revealed.

Libby sighed with love.

“You went shopping for me?” She confirmed.

“That I did.”

“You carted an expensive red carpet dress out here for me?” She uttered, unbelievingly.

“… That and I carted Kerry and Jackie along too.”

Libby laughed. Kerry was a beautician, and Jackie a hairdresser, a disreputable combo that had made Libby over on numerous occasions for many a premiere of Benedict’s, or for Libby’s own benefit. They truly were experts, and flawlessly brilliant at their jobs.

“Do I need to brush up on my Thespian key cards for this evening?” She asked.

“Just be your sexy, confident, exuberant, witty and dazzlingly charming, amazing self…” Benedict smiled.

Libby kissed him firmly on the lips as a thankyou.

Benedict bit his lip, before springing out of bed, naked. (Libby just secretly loved the rear scope of him and his delectable ass) and padding over to the wardrobe, pulling out a large, very long black dress bag, he gave her a look before he unzipped the outer shell, and let the garment bag fall like a curtain to the floor, looking towards Libby’s direction with eyes of pure, utter, knee melting sex.

Libby’s jaw hit the floor. And then some. In fact, she was nearly sure it plummeted several floors down, blasting through the hotel, and not stopping until it hit the polished marble of the posh lobby floor.

 

 


	4. Red Carpets, Redheads, and Red Heels...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben and Libby storm the scene on the red carpet....

 

    

 

“Stop fidgeting, you look fine…”

Ben chuckled quietly into Libby’s ear as they glided through the streets of sunset Venice, yet again, comfortably housed in a sleek mercedes with soft beige leather seaks that they had sunk into. Libby watched the sun plunging quickly into the horizon with the backdrop of bursting copper and flaming red. The colours skipping over the sky were nearly as silky and as gliding as the skirts of her long blood red dress.

“I’m not fidgeting.. I _am_..fine…”

Libby pressed, tucking one strand of red hair back behind her ear, so her Swaorvski earrings twinkled the evening sun back at Ben.

She had spent the remainder of the afternoon being pampered and preened. Jackie, who was in charge of hair, forced her back into the shower and made her wash her hair (yet again) so by the time she emerged, she was cleaner than a whistle and utterly exuded the scent of all of Dior’s bath products. All before she was wrangled into a chair, and whilst her nails and toes were done by Kerry, Jackie focused on highlighting, blow drying and fluffing up her wild mane of redness until it was wrestled into formality in the form of a volumised bob of hair that was silky smooth and looked greater than anything Libby could have ever managed to do to it on her own. Her nails and toes were polished to a shining french manicure, she rejected the idea of red nails too, stating she would feel like cruella de vil if she did, and then Kerry was set about making her look beautiful. Which consisted of light layers of make up, plenty of shimmer powder and careful contouring, a sweep of expensive mascara to accentuate Libby’s mile long lashes, and the darkest shade of red lipstick she could get away with. After she was done, she was pushed into the bathroom to slip on her dress. Which fit her like a glove, and the silk of which caressed her skin like the finest lovers touch.

But the real benefit of the evening, was whe she emerged from the bathroom, clutching to the swathes of the gorgeous dress, to see Benedict sat on the bed fixing his cuffs, and when he caught a glimpse of her, his eyes didn’t know where to rest. That, in itself was worth it all. The dress made sure to bare her curves like the wicked call of a siren to him, the slight round of her hip and upper thigh could be seen, not to mention the barest sliver of her cleavage. It was a dress that seemed to give away so much, yet offer up so very little at the same time. Ben often thought the best kind of dress Libby could wear, was one that inspired him to want to take it off her. And god help him, he didn’t care that the dress was phenominally expensive, it was a Westwood for heavens sake, and he wanted to tear it off her as quickly as humanly possible. It would, of course, torture him all evening – the simple fact that he couldn’t. Which means that he had hours of foreplay and vigorous eye fucking to show to and convey her how much he wanted too…

He knew that devouring her with his eyes was just as sexy to her as a hot kiss or a sordid touch.

He stood, uncaring of the fact that he wasn’t fully dressed yet, crossing to her, running his bottom lip between his teeth, scanning her up and down with pure eyes of sex. He walked to his bag and reached for a shoebox and a small white jewellry case.

Begrudgingly she was coerced into him forcing the strappy red Manolo Bhlaniks onto her feet, and the dangly Swarovski crystals into her ears. Before Jackie and Kerry waved them off, Kerry warning what she would do to Ben if he messed up her lipstick. If Libby didn’t need any more convicing of how glorious she looked, many pair of eyes stuck to her as she passed through the hotel lobby, the lovely concierge, Carlos, gave her a saucy itlaian style wink. Aswell as the driver tipping his hat far too presumptiously and enthusiastically at her. She blushed and averted her eyes. _Oh_ , the Italians and their flirting.

And now, they were on their way to the premiere launch party in the beautiful Campo Della Pescaria, Benedict had assured her she would be fine, there would be plenty of famous actors from all over attending.

Libby felt the nerves gnaw at her stomach, she was biting her lip, and tugging on the hem of her beautiful silken dress.

Ben noticed this, and despite the fact that watching her bite that full lip was turning him on to no avail. He reached over and scooped up her hand in his. Forcing her to tear away her baby blues from the red Italian sunset to rest on his own gaze.

“Darling…”

He purred. Able to soothe her with the use of just one word.

“It’s just. Our first premiere as a couple, is all. And I have a feeling I know how it’ll go. You’ll be dragged of my Karan to interview and delight and I’ll be left all on my larry in this dress waiting on my own all night..” Libby mumbled with truth.

Ben tilted her chin so he could look at her.

“That’s not going to happen, _Mio tesero_ …” He winked in sly Italian.

“Because, this hand of mine isnt going to leave yours all night. And gawd help me if it does, I cannot leave you all alone and vulnerable to those randy Italian Men who will doubtless be eyeing you up all night. Ready to serenade you with promises of candlelit dinners and rampant lovemaking, and romantic Italian verse. Your hand will stay in mine all night. Understand? And they either have both of us, or none at all. That’s my bargain for tonight.” He promised

Libby tilted her head, a small smile lilting on her red lips.

“You’re a lovesick fool, Cumberbatch…” she smiled.

“Can you blame me?” He purred, his hand inching over her silken hip.

Before she could help it, Her soft hand was holding his jaw so she could lean over and softly kiss him.

“Watch that lipstick, baby…”

He flirted. When she pulled away. His eyes looking like black rings.

“Kerry gave me a spare for freshening should I need it…” she explained.

“Then why was I warned off kissing you?…”

“Because you were looking like you wanted to devour me alive back in that hotel room.”

“My mistake, I thought I had…”

He winked, making her mind drift back to what he had done to her earlier in the day.

She gave him a terse look.

“None of that tonight…” she told off.

“None of what?”

“Whispering sordid things into my ear…”

He smiled. In manner of filthy love rat. He was good at that smile, very accomplised.

“Benedict…” she warned.

“But you know how terrible I am at keeping promises…”

He snuck into her ear with his raspy hot sex voice. All deep and at a resonance that could shake the earth to its core.

“You needn’t remind me…” She smiled.

“I know how terrible you are at keeping secrets of _that_ kind…” Libby offered.

“Darling. With you in _that_ dress, I’d happily renounce my own mother if it meant I got to kiss you once…”

“She’d be pleased to hear that….” Libby retorted dryly.

“ _God_ , you look so _very_ sexy…”

He growled, nipping at her neck. His hands stole around to her bare back. Libby smiled with her full red lips, with that radiant small little modest smile he adored, and as she crossed her legs, inadvertently making her bare skinned leg slip through the thigh gap of her dress, Benedict practically salivated.

“..On second thoughts, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it through this evening..”

He purred, hand stealing south to rest on her bum. The responding groan that rumbled deep in his throat set her veins aflame.

“I want to steal you back to that hotel room and do filthy unspeakable things to you all night..”

He roared gently into her ear, kissing and nipping around the expensive earring.

Libby bit the inside of her lip. She couldn’t deny how marvellous he looked either, but, then again, when did he ever not? (Besides from all the years that he was allowed to dress himself for premieres) but, no. Tonight was a shining example of what was capable of happening as someone else took charge of dressing him. He was kitted out in all black, from head to toe, black trousers, undershirt, black tie, with the one excpetion of a slightly navy waistcoat, and a shining pocketwatch chain leading from his pocket to his button near his front. He looked ridicuously expensive, pristine, and as for the fop of coppering brown rusty curls on his head, she very much wanted to scruff her hands through and muss it all up. And as far as the stubble he hadn’t shaved off to look rugged with, well, she wanted that stubble and that angular jawline pressed to a place of hers that no self respecting lady should ever mention…

“…. and if you and I had no such obligations to this event tonight…” Libby whispered, waiting for him to finish the sentence.

“Then we’d still be in that bed, and I would be burying my head between your thighs and not removing myself until you came six times…”

He growled, tugging her her cose by shifting her silky frame closer to his muscular form on the seats. It wasn’t too hard, silk when gliding across soft leather had very little friction, so she came to him easily, happily and without a fuss.

“But, you didn’t spend a bomb, I imagine, on this wonderful Vivienne Westwood dress, Swarovski earrings and Manolo Bhlaniks for it to waste away in the wardrobe…”

Libby pointed out as Ben kissed down her fragrant pale neck. Moaning in displeasure with the fact that she was right.

“I hate that your always right…” He grumped.

Libby smiled and pecked him quickly on the lips. He settled back into his head with his arms still linked across her back.

“The evening will come soon enough, I promise.” Libby winked.

“And don’t worry, theres a fat chance I will succumb to the ravishing Italian Men who will attempt to seduce me all evening…” She promised jokingly.

Ben made a face. (If an eyebrow twitch consitituted a ‘face’)

“You’ll regret that statement later...”

He winked. His hand sliding teasingly up her thigh.

Libby smiled and blushed a little, with her knees turning to jelly at his sexy look and sentence.

That was when the car started to slow down, and the world the two were managing to ignore and let slip by beyond the dark tinted windows came into view, the long stretch of the red carpet, crowded with hustles of photographers, bouncers, adoring fans and flashing cameras. A few celebrities already dotted the huge stretch of the runner of red rug. She could see the mobs of crazed Italian fans, with a few signs dotted throughout the crowd that was meant for Benedict. She gulped.

That was before Ben squeezed her hand. _Tight_.

“I meant what I said, Lucky, all or nothing….”

He pressed one final time. Looking at her so intently with passion and the promise of protection that it made her heart ache.

Libby let an enthralled smile grace her lips. Ben adored his job, and seeing such raw admiriation from him for what he did, far outweighed any nerves that she had residing in her stomach.

“Get out there, Batch. Your public graciously awaits you…”

She pressed kissing him as he kissed back eagerly, before clambering out to a chorus of deafening screams, and blinding white light. And as he crossed to open her door and let her out, she found that in no time at all, she was joining him. Unto the breach of camera flash and the screaming crowds…

And very suddenly, Unto the breach once more became a grand statement in truth….

As soon as her stilettoed feet hit that red carpet, with Ben clutching her hand tightly, she had to take a second to gain her balance on her wobbly nervous knees, and regain her sight. Cameras were flashing in viscous onslaught, but still she smiled, laughed and stood elegantly by Ben’s side. (She couldn’t be sure how long the elegance would pan out in these shoes)

But the gasps of adoration that echoed for her, and for the work the stunning dress was doing for her stunning body was enough to make her smile and blush. Aswell as the reporters shouting questions to her.

But as the crowd caught wind of Ben’s arrival, more and more screams aswell as the camera flashes, only seemed to increase. And instead of nerves, Libby found herself laughing…

“This is mental…”

Libby laughed into Ben’s ear with a wide smile as they posed gracefully, his arm pressed about her waist. Her hand still linked with his.

Ben chuckled next to her. She heard the deep rumbling sound echo out from his chest

“Yes darling. We call this showbiz…”

Ben explained as he raised one hand and waved to the crowd, and they went postively nuts for the man. And as he smiled wider, they went mad for that too…

“Showbiz? _Pffft_ , This is paramount to beetlemania…” Libby pointed out

Ben just adjusted his hand on her back and carried on smiling. As did she.

“As long as I can be Ringo…” Ben japed.

Libby wrinkled her nose. Ben laughed, he knew she hated them with a vengeance

“Darling, I’d rather you were neither..”

She explained in good humour.

“As you wish…”

He winked, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek.

Screams and swoons burst from the crowd almost instantaneously.

“Nows the opportune time, do your monty python ministry of silly walks, see if they scream for that one…” Libby joked.

Ben snorted into laughter, making a scrunched up lovable face and pulling her into his side. His hand at the small of her back as he looked down to her lovingly, and she looked up, the paps caught many snaps of that one too, some even calling out for him to ‘snog his bird’

As they walked along, stopping every few feet, mainly for pictures and the odd chat with the passing celeb. Already they had bid wishes to Penelope Cruz, Libby had to hold Ben back when Tom Cruise Kissed the back of her hand and winked at her, and they had given a warm welcome to Daniel Craig as he passed them by.

As they came near the end of the carpet, Ben’s hand was sneaking decidedly lower on her back possessively, as he noticed that a couple of other actors, such as Jonah Hill and Zac Efron, had all let their gazes linger for a second too long on his Libby by his side.

“Please tell me you’ve noticed how many men have been eyeing you up…” Ben spoke softly into her ear.

Her full red smile remained unwavering.

“They are _not_ …” She brushed off quickly.

Although her brain kept throwing up the fact that all these infatuated women were screaming and yelling his name, and yet she was the one on his arm. Somehow, that, to her, was a massive turn on.

Libby blinked that thought away.

“Oh, Miss Turner, you are _far_ too modest…”

He explained, hand naughtily reaching to her bum tp pinch it out of sight of the hordes of cameras.

She bit her lip, but otherwise showed no other violent reaction to being felt up.

“Behave yourself…”

She hissed through her pearly white smile.

“Impossible…”

Ben countered with a dangerous smile.

Suddenly, it all became a fray of shouts and questions. Screams from fans, flashes going off, and all the while, Ben took ample opportunities now and then to whisper sordid dirty things in her ear to make her smile and fidget in that notoriously sexy dress.

“BENEDICT! WHAT PLANS DO YOU HAVE COMING UP?”

_CLICKCLICKCLICK_

“ANY NEWS ON A WEDDING YET, BEN?”

“I really want to fuck you right now…” came the first whisper

_CLICK, FLASH_

“BENEDICT!”

“Spread those creamy thighs wide open and lick you out til you scream…” came whisper No.2

“Benedict…” Libby hushed under her breath in a skittish gust as she blushed

“FACE THIS WAY, BENEDICT!”

“Grab your hips, and slide into you so deep, you won’t know where you end and I begin…”

_FLASH FLASH_

“Your despicable..”

“ANY NEW PROJECTS BEN?”

“BEN, WHO ARE YOU WEARING?”

“Brush over yor G-spot with my thick cock until you cum and cum, all over me, and over and over again…”

“Down boy…” Libby winked. Chiding him.

_FLASH_

_CLICK CLICK_

By the time they got to the end of the red carpet, Both participants in the naughty whispering game were semi turned on. But as Ben was spotted by his agent, Karan, he was (begrudgingly) whisked away from his beautiful woman for a minute to talk to one interviewer, still keeping Libby in his sights as she caught up with Emma Thompson, a dear old friend who she’d known for years. They had met yonks ago on the set for Love Actually when Libby was helping do artwork for the movie poster. Ben was relieved she had managed to find a friendly face, as he was kept occupied for longer than a minute, as promised, he was just returning to snatch her back, and away to their seats, when he heard the paps shouting a very familiar name.

“LIBBY!”

“LIBBY, THIS WAY, TURN THIS WAY!”

“WHAT LABEL ARE YOU WEARING?”

“YOU LOOK HOT, WHAT’S YOUR SECRET?”

“ARE YOU AND BEN GOING TO GET MARRIED?”

“ARE YOU THE FUTURE MRS CUMBERBATCH?”

“LIBBY! LOVE THE DRESS, WHOSE IT BY?”

Shouts and questions were being hurled at her left right and centre, but she smiled elegantly, strutting down the carpet like she owned it, it was the runway to her Kate Moss, the Paint to her Van Gough, she looked so at ease, Ben was enraptured by the long curvy frame of her as she smiled and laughed, in the spotlight of light from cameras and the lighting above the carpet. She looked magnificent. And he was elated at the notion that she was his, because he truly thought he didn’t deserve such a stunning creature as her, this goddess could fall for no mortal, surely?

But sure enough, she bid her goodbyes, blew a kiss to the camera, strode away and up the few steps towards him where he was waiting for her. the spotlights shining from behind her making her look ethereal. Stunning. Sexy. Radiant. and ethereal.

She smiled as she got closer to him. Holding her skirts up as she managed to walk in the heels he bought her, as effortlessly as if she were stomping around in her Doc Martens.

He didn’t know why, but he knew  in an instance that he wanted to marry this woman.

“You alright?”

She asked as she got back to him.

Ben shook his head, smiling, with his eyes level with hers. Quickly crushing her into a snog, as the camera went batty for the lip on lip action. Libby smiled against his lips.

When they pulled away, the flashes were enough to be mistaken for lightning.

“Well, prepare for that to be in all the tabloids and glossy rags tomorrow..”

She smiled, cupping the back of his tapered neck. His hand had wormed its way through the gap In her dress to her bare thigh.

“I Love You.”

He explained. And that was all he was capable of.

“In this dress, I believe you.” Libby smiled.

Benedict laughed for a long time at that…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Basically, Libby's dress is the one Rita Ora wore for the 2014 VMA's she wore if beautifully. I saw it and thought, that dress it meant for a woman who loves her body shape and isn't afraid to show it off, ergo, made me think of Libby... enjoy x


	5. Models, D&G and Colleague Troubles (MORE ADDED!!!)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Libby gets an *interesting* offer.... Ben agrees....
> 
> (warning: possible sketchy Italian as I used google Translate...) my bad, wish I had time to learn the lovely language... 
> 
> \- Author  
> x

 

They both slowly wound their way through the theatre, through the bustling crowds of celebs and fashionistas, and more formal interviewers, and less manic photographers circled the room attempting to capture a few candid shots. But, the atmosphere was more casual inside, less frantic and pressured. Finally, Ben was able to grab them both a tall cool flute of something sweet and crisp and throughly Italian, to sip at as they circulated. The foyer was flawlessly decorated, with deep reds and marvellous golden statues placed everywhere, which went wonderfully with the plush Italian décor. For the first time all evening, Libby felt she could let her guard down, and feel truly comfortable. She let Ben link his hand across her back and guide her towards a small group of actors whom they both knew, Emma Thompson, Kate Winslet and Rosamund Pike, Libby knew all three personally, whether from work with them, or whether by asscioation at one of many Ben’s premiere’s. As they crossed, it was Emma and Kate who acknowledged them.

“Caught your breath yet, Benedict?”

Emma asked, looming in to hug him, looking flawless in a immaculate white bodycon dress and heels, her blonde hair styled and gleaming.

“Amazingly, yes, despite the fact my personal life is being pried into on a many number of accounts by interviewers, for a certain someones own fault..” Ben winked, nudging Libby with his hip.

“Well, with that foxy redheaded vixen in the stunning dress by your side, I’m not surprised..”

Emma winked, leaning over to embrace Libby, whom chuckled.

“Hello darling..” She pressed a kiss to Libby’s cheek.

“Well, gosh, I’m flattered, and of course the dress was all my own choosing….”

Libby said, whilst smiling, shaking her head and pointing at Ben.

Emma laughed, and Kate came forward.

“The amount of bravery you must have to allow the man to dress you is astonishing….”

Kate winked. “Hello lovely..”

she passed, enclosing Libby into a hug and engulfing Ben into one too.

“And especially this man at that…” Libby said with a smile.

“Bite your tongue…”

Benedict added, shocked at her insinuation.

“I’m sorry, but you did go to a premiere once with a plastic sheep, did you not? And on all occasions when Nick or I have dressed you, you do look stunning…”

“You wound me…” He mocked.

Libby just gave him that blasé smile.

“Rose, you look lovely? How’s that baby doing? And hows Robie?” Libby asked, stepping forward to kiss her as she was nattering to someone else as they exchanged pleasantries with Emma and Kate.

“Oh, my god, I’m getting sick of this bump already, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, and bless you, Robie’s fine, sick of my craving demands I’m sure, but underneath all the misery of it, I assume we’re happy.” She smiled.

Libby tilted her head

"Now, I’m sure that’s true."

She said, moving to flick away a strand of red hair that had fluttered into her eyes. As she did so with her right hand, kate stepped forwards and pulled her hand down to examine the sapphire blue promise ring glinting on her right third finger.

“Now come on tell me please, the two of you are bloody well finally getting hitched…” Kate gasped, Libby blushed.

“My god, you picked that ring too Ben? Your taste really is redeeming itself…”

Emma smiled, examining Libby’s hand with kate.

Rosamund had a peek too, everyone got a look in.

“Its deco, I cant believe the man with the plastic sheep bought you a deco ring…”

Rose hushed softly examining it with a smile.

Ben smiled coyly, studying his shoes and the polished marble floor beyond it.

“Well seeing as all of you are about to start clucking at dresses and rings, I’m just going to go and liase with Karan..”

Ben added, gently touching Libby’s waist, as he hand was taken partially by all three women.

“Go ahead, I think I’m cared for…” Libby smiled.

“Oh no you don’t…”

Kate seethed, tugging Ben away so they could privately chat. She linked her arm through his and frogmarched him away.

“Now, the last time I saw you at Sophie and Edwards wedding, you could barely admit you liked her without turning tomato colour and denying it, and now she has a promise ring…”

Kate hushed softly to him with a commanding tone.

“Your point? My little Commandant…” Ben asked.

Kate nearly whacked him in the ribs.

“Ben, you do know you are going to marry that woman, don’t you….”

“Well, unless I get a better offer, are you still single, if so, I may snatch you up…”

Ben joked, raising an eyebrow sarcilly to the woman who just punched him in the stomach.

Kate made a deadly serious face at him.

“Benedict…” she squawked.

“Fine, yes, but we should probably get a chance to move in together first…” Ben admitted.

“Your shacking up?…”

Kate smiled with a look of giddy adoration in her eyes.

“To put a less crude label on it, yes, we are moving in with each other at her place…”

Ben added with a tiny smile.

Kates mouth gaped and she clutched his arm tightly, eyes full of love and wonder.

“Ohh, please knock her up soonish… your children would be so sweet…”

“Kate…”

Benedict warned, a second away from partially barking at her.

“Ben, can you really impute me for thinking that way when you look at Libby like she singularly makes the world go round…”

Bens face twitched with a guilty smile as Kate raised a brow.

“Let me atleast propose to her before you invite yourself to the wedding…” Benedict winked.

“Oh, Certainly not…”

Kate smiled, patting him on the arm.

As they spoke, Kate slowly dragged them back over to where Libby and Emma were, Rosamund had been snatched away by her agent, and Emma was busy gabbling away with Libby. Ben watched, enraptured, as she snuck a misbehaving strand of red hair back behind her ear where it belonged. And just that little odd move had him breathless. True love really was a funny powerful thing…

All three of them made a move to walk slowly behind the throngs of famous people, caught up in the sea of posh tuxes, extravagant dresses and fame, they were wsept up into the theatre to take their seats, that was so, until a purring smoky Italian voice called Benedict’s name.

“Benedict, _Mio Caro_ …”

They turned to see a middle aged woman treading on very tall heels towards them both. She had an atypical mediterranean look, natural sun bronzed skin that women would kill for, and the thickest raven black hair that managed to be shiny yet volumised at the same time, the true envy of females everywhere, was this unnamed woman in a tight black halter dress and an expensive clutch in her manicured hands, and the dress bared some skin too, showing off a gym toned body and a cleavage like the holland tunnel. But as she was striding quickly and enthusiastically towards them, with a huge red smile splitting her lips to showcase wonderfully white teeth, and her jaded brown eyes glitned with friendliness, Libby found she was not to be feared, as she neared Benedict and he stood to receive two massive kisses on the cheek nearly leaving a scarlet smudge on his skin, and collapsing Ben into an overwhelmingly great hug, she was chuckling away and seemed elated to see him.

“You never check up on your calls? _Tesoro_ , I’ve been dying to have you back in _Venezia per_ _mio_ , oh, how you say in London, my _Rivista?_ ”

Ben chuckled, a sheepish expression gracing his face as the stranger interrogated him harshly with a smile. As he moved slightly to introduce Libby, the woman caught sight of her, and gasped.

“ _Mio Dio!_ Benedict, you never said your _fidanzata_ was _bella donna_..”

She gushed. Leaning over to shake hands with Libby as if she was meeting royalty.

Libby blushed at her sincere declaration of her beauty. And she was still admiring Libby as if she were the finest Pre Raphaelite painting come to life before her eyes.

“Graze Mille..” Libby spoke softly.

“Parli Italiano?”

The woman seemed taken aback, but no less enthused.

 _“_ Sì, un linguaggio tale gloriosa merita di essere parlato..” Libby answered.                                                                                             (yes, such a glorious language deserves to be spoken)

The yet unnamed woman smiled wider, if that was even possible by the way she was already beaming.

“Oh! Spiacenti, dovesono le miebuone maniere? I’m Aria, The Dolce and Gabbana Fashion, Oh, I have, how you say, lost the word, in English, _ur, repre_ \- _rappresentante..”_ She clarified _._

“Libby..” She introduced, shaking her hand warmly. “E 'un piacere, Aria” she added.

“I met Aria last year at the film festival, she invited me to do a shoot for D&G...”

Ben cut in betweent he gabbling women, and fluent Italian.

Libby smiled in realisation, that’s how she knew Benedict, who was stood to the side admiring her speaking Italian and smiling at the two. And plus the fact she was talking about a _Rivista_ , a magazine _.._

“ _S_ _ì,_ I have worked with this _formidabile_ man before, and he has carelessly ignored my many many, _preghiere_ , for him to come back and model my new line for me..” she flicked Ben’s shoulder.

“Crudele, Signore...”

Aria muttered, telling him off in sharp Italian.

“But, I think I have found a new star before my feet, _Mio Caro_ , you must come and be a _modello_ for my new show next month...”

Aria said, winkling and smiling slyly at Libby.

“Me?”

Libby asked, taken aback.

“ _S_ _ì.”_

Aria smirked.

“Why just have Ben, when I can also get his _multo bella,_ _fidanzata,_ too _?”_ She smiled.

“I’m not exactly, a model…” Libby blushed honestly.

“Essatamente…”

Aria beamed, she was not to be dettered. Eyes flitting up and down Libby’s figure, as if she were already imagining what to dress her in, taking in her sizes.

Libby looked to Ben who smiled widely, clearly he knew she was putting up a loosing fight against the stubborn italian woman who could not be swayed, so, in other words…

_He agreed with Aria…._

“..I’m fed up of these arrogant, _altezzoso,_ children who wear my clothes. No. I want a vivascious, _coraggioso,_ woman with fire and passion for my pages, to proudly wear my line, and make a grander statement. You will think about this, _S_ _ì?”_ Aria pressed.

Libby stumbled and fought for words.

Before she could say much more, Aria swiped a card from her clutch bag and pressed it between Libby’s fingers. Not taking no for an answer.

“You make her accept for me, _Mio Caro_..”

She winked, placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder as she moved away.

“ _Ciao, Mio Tesoro_ , Call me when you say Sì, I’m sure I’ll see you again...”

She called as she flounced off looking pleased with herself. She dissapeared, and a wave of Bvlgari perfume followed her departure, like the wake of a boat in the Venitian sea.

Ben eased himself onto the seat next to her as she examined the card, with the huge D&G letters embossed onto the paper. Suddenly, she felt like Charlie Bucket holding the golden ticket.

“I take it she got you to model with all the tact and persuasion she used on me?”

Libby asked Ben as the lights started to dim.

He gave no answer, except a small smile and scooping her hand up in his own.

“Aria always gets what she persues…” Ben winked.

Libby smiled, still blinking in mortification that the deputy representative for Dolce and Gabbana wanted her to be a model. She wasn’t entirely sure a bigger ego boost, or indeed, a more gorious moment would take place this evening….

So she sat back, squeezed back Ben’s hand, and enjoyed the night.

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And actually. As it turns out. In regards to her previous aforethought about the night not getting any better. Libby found she now had to face the music and eat her own words...

After the premiere had ended, she and Ben had stayed to pose for a few pictures, drink another glass or two of expensive Italian fizz, and mingle with flawless talent.

As they were ushered outside again, a few fans still hanging around eagerly, got a photo and a signature from a rather intoxicated and weary Ben. Some of them even asked for Libby to be in the photo too, which she secretly revelled at. And after compiling themselves into the merc yet again, they gladly let it take them back to the hotel. But as they got halfway there through the dark warm night in Venice, both their stomachs let out a series of starving, rumbling growls in succession. To which they have each other a quizzical look.

"You as hungry as I am?"

Ben asked her with quiet interest.

"I could eat..."

Libby insisted with an indifferent shrug.

Ben nodded, acting coy. Turning to look out of his window as the nightlife of Venice swept by.

Their stomachs groaned and grumped louder.

Ben slowly turned his head to give her a look.

"Peckish?"

He asked gently.

Libby's polite resolve melted there and then.

"Bloody famished..."

She burst out. Relieved to voice her discomfort. Screw politeness.

"I think I need to get some food in me before I start gnawing at the headrest.."

Libby mumbled miserably, eyeing up the leather seat on front of her as if she were seriously considering it.

Ben chuckled and reached over to grasp her hand in his.

"Don't worry...."

He assured her with his most handsome and determined smile.

"I promise to see to it that you get fed very shortly..."

Ben assured her. Kissing the back of her hand.

"Your such a good provider..."

Libby groaned lovingly with a smile. Leaning over to kiss his cheek.

"Never let it be said I don't take care of my _luvvvaaa_."

Ben purred with a wink. He held her hand tight as they headed slowly back to the hotel through the busy evening traffic. When they did get there, Ben helped her out of the car in her difficult heels and her problematic silk skirts, just to prove what a gentleman he was, and how the art of chivalry was indeed, still alive and kicking.

He guided her through the lobby, his hand to the small of her back as they walked. Again, Carlos the concierge gave them a cursory cheeky wave as they passed by the desk.

"Bonne Serra, Mr and Mrs Cumberbatch..."

He bid them in eased Italian with a flirty wink.

The couple smiled politely back at him, hands twined. Libby thanked him quickly and sincerely as they got into the lift. Libby missed how Carlos have the agreed signal to Ben as Libby's head was turned. As soon as the doors closed.

Libby found herself enclosed tightly to Ben's chest. Inhaling his Eau de Monsieur scent that permanently clung to him.

She passed the flat of her palms across his finely suited back, feeling the expensive fabric under her fingertips as his rejoiced at the luxury that was touching her bare soft skin in a manner most erotic, that it led him to wonder how he ever got along all night when she looked at scrumptious as she did, how in hell he didn't drag her to some secluded bathroom and shag her brains out.

He groaned at the pent up feeling he was releasing of being able to hold her in his arms, and not prance around formality for fear of the paps snatching a shot to endlessly craze over. Libby smiled into his neck as he groaned softly and wholeheartedly content into hers. The scent of her awaited him. Lavender and Jean Paul Gaultier perfume. Her. His Libby. His sweet scented, luscious redhead.

Her curiosity was piqued when he pressed the button for the top floor.

_The one just above their room..._

She narrowed her eyes, smiling through her long lashes at him. Seeing his tipped Cupid's bow smile, and glowing blue eyes grinning back at her.

"What devious plans have you set afoot?"

She asked with awaited trepidation.

Ben simply smiled wider...

"Nothing you won't disapprove of..."

He winked, holding her close. She cocked her head to the side, just as the lift slowed and dinged to the 13th floor.

The doors slid open to reveal a dark corridor.

Libby stayed silent.

Stepping forwards and poking her head out looking left and right to see nothing but a fire exit to her left, and a door to the starlit roof to her right.

"Fill in a few gaps for me. I am drawing blanks..."

She explained. Ben chuckled, stepping out after her.

He linked himself around her, steering her to the door out to the rooftop. One hand across her eyes.

"What is it with you and surprises. I always have to stay blindfolded. You worry me in that respect, you know? you kinky bastard..."

Libby joked.

Ben laughed behind her, she felt the throaty rumble of his laugh much more as she couldn't see anything but the inside of his palm.

He pushed the door open for her and walked her through it.

"Can you ever not joke about my trying to be romantic, whilst retaining a certain air of mystery..." He begged.

"Have we met?"

Libby smiled saucily. He knew he should've known better than that.

Her wit was always poised, sharp, and ready to go. Ben smiled on seeing what lay ahead of them both.

Before he guided Libby into position. And let his hand drop.

Because, as it turns out. The secret pre-arranged signal Carlos have Ben, was to inform that the roof had been decorated to his specifications. A small table worn two chairs had been placed among the hedges and plants that were lit with sparkling fairy lights that winked just like the net of bright stars riding on the night sky. Under the wooden veranda, hung more lights that lit up the small table below, which was set with candles and a bottle of wine and two glasses on the checkered table cloth. Along with four or five silver domes that Libby could only be led to presume was food. And which her eyes let forget as she took in the elaborately planned meal for two that the man whom she adored, was stood behind her, smiling like a guilty lovesick individual as per his organisation of the elaborate, thoroughly romantic gesture.

"I thought tonight's menu called for something with a little more umpph than room service..."

He explained, leading her over by the hand as she looked around her, smiling with delight, mouth gaped and, for once in her life (they thought) rendered speechless.

"You, I...."

She managed before sighing and leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

One hand on his cheek as she did. She pulled back, but her hand stayed where it was.

"I think I can safely say. You'll be getting some tonight..."

She smiled.

Ben chuckled and motioned for her to sit, along with shooting her a saucy wink.

"... Just the end result I was hoping for..."

He beamed, standing to pour the wine.

"... And. Pray tell. How much did this set you back along with that Ritz of a hotel suite you picked?"

Libby asked. Hand on her chin, as her elbow rested on the table. Staring at him with love, lust and wonderment in her eyes.

"Well..."

Ben explained uncorking the fine red wine and leaving it to stand for a minute.

He lifted the domes to reveal a pizza box with "Papa Joes" stamped on the top. Along with two portions of pasta, and a cheesy garlic bread, dripping with garlic butter that made Libby nearly salivate.

She chuckled with glee. Shaking her head and smiling.

Would the man ever run out of ways to render her without speech? (She hoped not)

Ben joined her, placing himself on the chair opposite. Pouring the wine and encouraging her towards eating the piping hot, very fresh margherita pizza that confirmed no place did Pizza as good as Italy.

Her eyes fluttered back in head and she moaned gratefully as she tucked in.

Ben watched, sipping his wine and gently laughing at the sight of her eagerly devouring the slice.

"Come on now. You have to join me. It's obligatory. I can't sit here in an £8000 dress, £400 shoes, with earrings that cost more than my car, and eat takeaway pizza on my own. People with think ill of me..."

She explained, making him laugh as he handed her the wine and she accepted it from him.

He raised his glass to clink with hers.

"To my Girlfriend. The model.."

He winked with a cheeky smile.

Libby tilted her head to give him a look.

"I hardly think I'm model material.."

She explained, raising a brow and gesturing to the pizza she was lowing her way through at a rate of knots.

"Well. I do..."

Ben leered confidently.

"Then we are at a crossroads..."

She counteracted.

"How much longer are we going to pretend you haven't already made your mind up?"

Ben asked, tilting a educated brow and burrowing into the pizza box to stave off his oncoming malnourishment.

Libby pursed her lips. Her eyes meeting his.

"At least for a little while longer please..."

She smiled sheepishly. Ben beamed.

"Always wanted to fuck a model..."

He purred, licking sauce from his lips. Libby crossed her legs, pressing her thighs together at his brazen display that made her stomach and loins sizzle.

"Just don't expect me to go the whole hog and gain a drug habit..."

She laughed, sipping wine.

"Aww. Come on. All or nothing... Get into character..."

Ben urged jokingly.

Libby leaned forwards on the table.

"You are a dangerous hazard to temptation..."

She joked, not really joking all that much if she was truthfully honest.

Ben's eyes took in her figure in that dress once again, especially that plunging cleavage that was now revealing itself as she leaned forwards.

"Ditto..."

He growled.

"Stop eye fucking me and eat your food..."

Libby winked.

"Why delay the inevitable?"

He asked lustily

"Because it fear as soon as I tell you I'm not wearing any underwear under this dress, I fear this lovely dinner may be cut rather short..."

She flirted.

"You tease me good darling..."

He congratulated with sex eyes firing daggers at her over the table.

"You love it, you filthy fiend.."

She winked.

"In that dress. Yes I do..."

Benedict smiled wickedly.

Libby smiled. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Drunk In Love...

 

 

Benedict had been relentless.

He had pursued after her skin like a crazed animal as soon as dinner had finished. That was the all evening inebrehiation seeping through, he still had enough of a gentlemanly all british side to him to slide his hands down all the parts of Libby that were already exposed.

…Like gently flicking a fingertip down her spine, tilting her head to the right with his jaw, nipping down her neck with sharp little bites, alternating between soft nips and plump kisses from that renound cupid’s bow, all the while holding her waist and keeping her hips firmly in place of his body…

…And slowly letting one hand drop down to the front of her bare skinned thigh in the gap of her silken dress, softly skimming up with soft dexterous fingers…

Libby bit her lip, and tried to focus on making sure her legs would withstand this shameful onslaught. Her head was spinning from the wine, her blood hot and boiling from his pursuing attentions. A small little sigh – one of his favourite little mewling sounds of hers – escaped her lips in a plea of misbelief that such seduction could feel as delightful as it was.

They were all alone, dangerously, descending to the floor below theirs, dropping as quickly as Libby’s safeguard for propriety was. She knew she should be better behaved, and he knew they should wait atleast until they got back to their room, but suddenly, with the way she was looking, and laughing, and smiling with drunken ease. Their room may aswell have been kilometres away…

The lift door pinged – far too slowly for his liking, and he tore her out of it, carrying her swiftly, with his hand enclosed around hers, watching her hips sway under the sheen of red silk that teased him with every tantalising step she took. Her steps were like champagne, and he was slowly getting drunk on her walk. They breezed quickly along the bouncy carpeted corridoor, coming to the door of the Suite, Ben pulled out his key card, slipped it in until the light flashed green, and to him, that was almost like the green light at the traffic lights. Go.go.go

He tugged her quickly into the room, and before she could even breathe, she found herself crushed into the wall with his lips moulded to her own, she heard him kick the door closed, and stuggled to throw her silk skirts to one side so he could reunite the flat of his palm to her thigh, loosing his breath as his hand slid upwards and he trapped her into a snog that made her loose sense of all knowledge again.

Almost as if he had amnesia in his kiss, he could make her forget everything she ever thought she knew. Her thoughts were gone with the wind when he pursued her like this with fervent romance and lust.

A moan was torn ruggedly from her lips, and his own throat as he turned her neck to the side and tugged her hair away so he could ravish the spot that made her knees wobble.

Another moan came pounding from her lungs as he grabbed the back of her right thigh, hitching it up so she pushed her bust out, her waist in, and her back to the wall, as she was hosited up around to his suit front, hands drunkenly scrambling for a hold onto him for dear life.

Her groin ground in a wide circle that shamelessly pressed into his, her pretty scarlet lips gaped and a pretty moan that was all his sighed through them to let him know she was shamelessly adoring this…

This ardent passion and frenzying need that couldn’t be contained, even though it was engrained bone deep into his gentlemanly behavior. Printed permanantly onto his very DNA. But give him this sinfully sexy morsel of redheaded fiesty curves in a revealing silk dress, and the gentleman could take a hike as the animalistic beast of his lust had free reign over him, and, her. She was at his mercy.

They were both drunk, that was no secret. Hands were fumbling, and breath fell hot like sordid, reprehensible affairs spilling from lips into each other mouths. Hot little secrets. But there was nothing but lust at battle between their separate secrecy. Hair was tugged and mussed, with Libby’s own fiery red thickness combed through Benedict’s fingers like fiery silk, his own coppering rust curls were thoroughly reorganised by Libby’s own fingers. Ben’s tie was pulled and jerked forwards and burst open, just like his shirt front was. Her red dress straps had been hitched harshly down to her shoulders, allowing the full weight of her breasts to do all the holding up on their own, heaving under her laboured breath.

Ben noticed that her fingers slipped and stumbled on his shirt buttons, missing their target as an overdose of lust and wanting made her lazy and uncoordinated.

“Rip.it.”

Ben growled through impatient lips and a sexy smile.

Libby hesitated for a second, before Ben licked his lips. Still hoisting her up into him so their groins mingled and yearned to be introduced to one another intimately. She felt his hands claw at he rback, before his brute muscles that had bulked up for a role were still lingering around, pulled and tugged, and she heard a slow rip tear down her back as he heaved the zip apart and no doubt ruined the dress, she gasped, one at the careless extravagence of his desperation, and at the cool wallpapered wall meeting her back as she was kept captive against it.

His eyes were hot blue coals, urging her to reflect his actions. Those eyes, those were the eyes and billboard that could impregnate inanimate furniture, and melt diamonds.

Which means she now had no problem shredding his shirt open, tearing the sides open so buttons fell like white pearly hailing rain onto his polished shoes, the soft tear followed by the mouth watering sight of his chest framed by his jacket and the still present tie linked to his tapered neck. Who ever knew sex gods could appear in mortal and mere Spencer Hart suits?

Speaking of which, his left hand encouraged her right leg up and over his hip so his raging lust could press their hips together. His fingers worked with talent at the small silver buckles, working through them until both her shoes clattered to the floor, joining the broken graveyard of his shairt buttons and part of his shirt front littering the foyer. With her legs about his waist, she barely notices the transition to the moonlit bed, accentuated by a rectangle of Venetian moonlight that he was just willing to bed she would look lovely lying in stark bollock  _naked_ …

in nothing but heels. _Oh._ Now there's a naughty thought that's never even _occurred_ to him before...

 _Imagining those red heels as all that is adorning her lovely long legs as they grip his waist as tight as he would be grabbing her thighs tight and fucking her deep and hard... Doing that little move they always do when he fucks her so well. Squeezing his hips tighter with every hard thrust... Hmm._  

That was _certainly_ an idea for another time perhaps... 

Polished prada mens shoes were next to be hurled to the wasteland that was the carpet, aswell as a ripped white shirt, a rumpled tie and a redundant jacket, but the absence was too much, quickly a muscly chest is tugged with hunger back down to her silky red front.

A mutual agreement for rapidness meant that completly undressing was without doubt out of the question…

Libby nearly injured herself with the quick snap of his belt buckle as she fumbled to fling it open, and the zip at the front of his stiff groin tugged open, A breathy moan that turns into a ravishing bite of Libby’s shoulder is her reward for fighting with his trousers. Sure enough, her biting those red lips at her reward is enough for Ben to ease her skirts away, bring her right leg up over his hip, and plunge all the way to the hilt inside her all too eager body.

Libby her lip again, in that sexpot way of hers. That never managed to not make his legs shiver.

That first thrust. Theres nothing quite as delicious, maybe an orgasm perhaps… but it was more than that. It was tantric, it was having ~~this~~ _her_  glorious god ravish her with adoration and supreme skill that she admired.

The fact that her tiresome figure was something he would never tire of, but as in fact, perplexingly to her, his biggest weakness, the sight of which had driven him out of his mind all evening. That a goddess such as she had to grace the admiring looks from other men. He hated that fact, hated he had to share this sight with undeserving eyes. But yet, at the same time, he wanted every single last person to know exactly how she was all his. And he couldn’t exactly call for hypocracy, her hand was forced, she had to share him with the world. She had _no_ choice or say in the matter. But these moments, she wouldn’t pass up for anyhing. Moments of pure unadultered love and longing, moments when he could be all hers. And he certainly was as he moved his hips in slow grinding circles and got to feel her hands fighting for a grip on his muscled back. Hand slipping with fumbled intoxication, her smoky voice raspy with desire and want as she moaned his name louder than any other veneration he could be deserving of.

His lips dropped to her neck, slowly their hips smacking and meeting one anothers with excited and longing kisses of touch. Her breath starting to skip as she mewled his name. Relieved that at last a long slow lovemaking session with her sexy man was hitting just the spot… literally.

Her thighs starting to quiver and shake with his sensual onsalught, and his clever fingers slowly getting to grips with that sensation that made her head light and her moans turn to screams and pleas.

He could never tire of this, slow, sloppy, fumbled drunken sex. Just at the right level so every move was good, everything was tingling with pleasure, every moan was a prayer, and every touch only sought to enflame their senses until they both reached euphoria. His completion was just ahead of hers, at hearing her moans ignite his blood, his release swoops from nowhere and seizes her, but that only means he can be all to attentive to help hers.

And when it does arrive, it tears through her like a gale force hurricane, ripping her every cell apart in pleasure, her brain so weightless she swares she left it somewhere on the pillow above her as he pounded her with careful drunk slowness. Her throat incapable of throwing out coherent sentences, but one loud long screaming yelp tells him all he needs to know about her side of the orgasm. Eyes prettily closed and red lips parted, not before she licks them, throat and mouth dry. But to which he leant forwards and captured with his own tongue, kissing her through the afterhsocks of pleasure, as, indeed, she did look utterly lovely and ravishing led in the square of moonlight, in a half ripped red silk dress, one arm above her head, the other clutching onto the sheets for dear life, dress folded accurately across her thighs which were trembling at his sexual onslaught. He pulled away, admiring the view that was better than any he could pay for anywhere in the world.

This view was exclusive.

It was all his. Free and Priceless.  And it belonged solely to him. He loved that.

As her pretty blue eyes fluttered open, she caught him mid his adoring stare. Admiring her with such wonder she almost half believes she is the goddess he so frequently refers to her as.

Theres almost enough energy for them to mumble soft words to each other, before ruined, lust damaged clothes are shed, and covers are hastily pulled up to retain dignities.

And the sentence was mutual, falling from both lips from both parties wrapped around each other in the moonlit, butter soft bed.

And is it really so surprising that that one sentence was…

“I Love You.”

 


	7. Read On.... Read On....

Hello all you lovely lot who dare to click, read, love, comment and follow my stories. Basically. This is a little note to inform you that I'm still in the land of the living, and that in the next few weeks I will be adding more works, and as I want some feedback on these ideas. Please feel free to comment with your choices, or preferences. But basically these are the few stories that I would adore to include that you may have coming up...

-Uni Flashbacks.   
(Young!Student! Libby, Tom, and Ben)

-The Engagement Night Row, and Aftermath. (A few secret past gems to throw in here)

-More Ben/Libby shenanigans to boot of them attempting to hide the flirty relationship. (Que Smut to come - pardon the pun- here)

-More family meetings perhaps? Time for Ben to meet Libby's clan?! 

-General Banter. (Including more from Martin and T-Hiddy and other faces) possibly our two getting a puppy, or moving in together. Simple ordinary life stuff...

And last but certainly not least...

-a proposal? Of the romantic kind....

 

Any thoughts? Don't be shy? I'm reaching out to you guys. X x x x 

Thankyou 

\- Author 

X


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